Glastonbury was ready for Christmas, the streets decked with lights and trees. We, of course, were not there for the festivities, but to give the final talk of 2014, the last of the current series in Glastonbury.

It will be the last meeting with our friends in the town for a while, the last night this year where we gather at the George over a nice, cold Stowford’s and later at Morgy’s home, sharing wine, laughter and conversation into the small hours. There is an inevitable sadness about that, yet reflecting on what we have achieved this year… the learning curve we have faced as a School, as people and as teachers, there is also a joy too, and a sense of gratitude for the opportunities we have been given, the friends we have made and the time we have shared.

Our journey had been attended by all manner of hawks, watching from tree, fence and air as we drove south. We had stopped at Avebury on our way to Glastonbury. It has, of course, become something of a tradition to pay our respects to this ancient temple of the Mysteries. We had sought that first glimpse of the Tor as we passed the nine mile mark at the end of the long journey and raised our eyes a little while later to acknowledge its tower as we drove beneath the foot of the hill. There was, as always, a sense of homecoming when we arrived; this ‘holiest earthe’ is very dear to us in a way difficult to explain.

Perhaps what makes it so special is the tradition that has been kept alive here throughout its long history as a sacred place; a tradition that has encompassed so many of the ancient legends, myths and tales of its long history and rooted deep in the landscape of Somerset and of Albion itself. There are many ancient and beautiful sites in our land but I cannot think of another place that embraces so many different threads of our spiritual history, weaving from them a vibrant, living tapestry of people and belief. It really is unique.

It was late by the time we left. The talk had gone well and we had gathered with some of those who had joined us, to share a last hour in the George before heading out to our friend’s home for the night. It was later still when we finally headed to sleep, after much laughter and conversation. By the time I was up and about next day, those with the longest journey had already left and, some time later, with hugs, false starts and regret, we too hit the road for the long drive home. By the time we reached Avebury once more the sun was already setting over the church and the moon rising between the ancient stones, casting magic on this temple of the old ones. We watched the light fade from our habitual seat in the window over an early dinner, wishing we could spend more time here, where the veil is thin, exploring the outlying sites and walking the land with its memories and ghosts.

As the tired car began the final stretch of the journey to my home I reflected that we too have made memories this year, leaving footprints of laughter, love and learning across the landscape of our days and the hills of Albion.